Broken Glass
by mak4
Summary: When a common archeological dig in Canterbury, England ends up deeper in religious politics than ever expected, and a villian they thought safe behind bars returns to haunt them, a calm vacation becomes so much more.
1. Prologue

AN: Chapters will not be this short, this is just the prologue. Ailaina and I (Kat) are both university students, so updates may take awhile, but don't worry we'll finish what we start. Unless it's that ridiculous spoof—I don't think well ever be that tired again. This is our first National Treasure fic, and next chapter you'll see the return of your favourite characters! Enjoy!

Disclaimer: Ailaina and I own nothing but our imaginations. I also own a chess set where the pieces are shot glasses, but that is irrelevant. Unless I can find a way to work it into the story.

_**Broken Glass**_

The worn grey stone stood as it had for many years; strong, unyielding, slowly warming under the loving caress of the rising sun. The first rays rose up the walls, bringing the stained glass images to burning, brilliant light as it touched the gothic spires. It was as it had always been, quiet in the early morning, waiting to be filled with bodies coming to pray and to marvel. Its treasures were innumerable; priceless works of art were built directly into the everlasting stone, into the marble and the iron that created the framework of the massive building.

It was nothing more than a building, a gigantic hollowed out brick. It was a tomb. It was a treasure chest. And it had secrets left to be discovered—hidden centuries ago by betrayal and fate. Beyond the sunlit halls of solemn prayers and pilgrimage lay passages that reeked of foul, unjust death. They had not been opened since evil's hand had sealed them shut, but something lurked just out of sight, something searching, probing for a weakness.

So the cathedral waited, if an inanimate object could wait. Nothing moved yet in the silence of dawn, but if one had entered the cavernous space they would have said that the building itself was holding its breath. But no one entered until the light of day was fully upon the countryside and the rest of the world began to stir. When they did it had passed. When they did it was already too late.


	2. Make New Friends But Keep the Old

The underground club was dark, as one would expect, filled with the soft throbbing of the bass player warming up and the heart beats of the bodies that filled the room. Ben Gates and Abigail Chase has disappeared into the throng of people crowding the tiny dance floor after downing their first drinks, a show that Riley Poole, alone at the bar, did not expect from the quiet, modest couple. They always seemed more likely to curl up next to each other in front of a blazing fire and read than throw themselves in between complete and utter strangers just to rub up against each other. And as brilliant as Ben might be, he could not dance. Not that Riley was much better, but it didn't make much difference to the dark haired man. He was only sitting at the bar, drowning his loneliness in more alcohol than he had let himself consume in one sitting since college. He shrugged and motioned for another drink; if Ben and Abigail could cut loose every now and then, then there was no reason he couldn't either.

The lead singer took the stage with the rest of the band. He noted with amusement that she was the only one under six feet tall. Then she started to sing and he was almost hypnotized. It could have been the alcohol and the movements of the dancers, but as soon as she opened her mouth and that deep, melodic sound flowed out he was lost. The melancholy song rose and fell and he with it. The singer's voice ascended effortlessly through the notes, hitting each one with an easy perfection. Riley almost didn't notice when the seat next to him was finally taken he was so absorbed, but something about the way this girl moved caught his eye. He was no eunuch or anything, but to be so captivated by two people he didn't know in one night was a little strange. Chalking it up to the Guinness, he took another swig and watched with interest the interaction of the new arrival and the bartender, while keeping one ear on the music.

When the bartender saw the girl who had just arrived he gave he the thumbs up/thumbs down motion. When she motioned back with a thumbs-down and a sarcastic eye-roll he quickly poured her a large rum and coke, placing a shot of tequila next to it. Swigging back about half of the rum, she looked up at the stage, leaning against the bar, her shot apparently forgotten. Her first drink was gone before the song was over, and when the noise level calmed down to below shouting level Riley leaned over.

"Rough day?" he questioned.

"What?" the woman demanded, her head whipping around so fast, and her gaze so suspicious you would have thought he had thrust a gun in her back.

Riley tried to keep a calm, not drunk smile on his face. "The whole thumbs-down thing with you and the bartender. I figured it must have been a pretty terrible day, especially considering how fast that first drink went."

"Who are you?"

He grinned. "My name is Riley Poole, I'm not from around here. Judging by your accent, you're not either. I'm sorry if I startled you or offended you, but I'm just a bit too drunk to know when to keep my mouth shut. Like right now for example. This would be an excellent time to stop talking, but my mouth just won't. I'll buy you another drink to make up for it; my friends say it's the only thing that works." He paused, afraid that he had stepped out of line and was about to get slapped. To his immense relief, the dark haired woman beside him began to laugh, the sound disappearing underneath the opening riff of the band's second song.

She held out her hand, and leaned close, saying into his ear, "I'm Shana. It's nice to meet you Riley Poole. You've brightened my day considerably with your drunkenness, which I can honestly say I wasn't expecting in this place tonight."

"So why did you come?"

"What?"

"You said you weren't expecting your day to get better by coming here, so why bother?"

She smiled wryly. "It's better than an empty apartment, wouldn't you say? Besides, there's always the off-chance I'll be surprised, isn't there?"

Riley nodded. "There is always that. So, another rum and coke?"

"You pay pretty close attention."

"I notice inconsequential details."

There wasn't much they were able to say over the pounding, throbbing music. He thought about asking Shana to dance, but she made no move toward the floor and he was perfectly content to stay at the bar. Their conversation, though interrupted by the music lasted all the way through the first set.

"What do you say, Shana-banana?" Riley questioned his drinking buddy. "Feel like doing some shots?"

"Just how drunk are you Mr. Poole, and should I be worried about your intentions?"

"I like the way you phrased that, Ms. Oliver, and I've only had one beer since you sat down. I think I'm sobering up. It's quite disconcerting."

She laughed again, throwing her head back and letting it take over her whole body. "God it's a relief to talk to an actual human after being around those stuffed shirts all day. Alright, fire away. I'll just regret it come morning."

"All part of the package. Though may I add, no one's ever regretted the night the morning after spending it with me."

"Does that even make sense?"

"Does it matter?"

"Nope! Tom, send us some shots!"

Riley kept expecting Ben and Abigail to show up, but they seemed to have forgotten about him. Or they noticed he was flirting with someone and decided to be nice and leave him alone. He and Shana had each downed two shots before a shadow fell over them.

"There you guys are! Jesus, I've been… not expecting you. Sorry." Riley turned away from the strange man and went back to his conversation, only to see that Shana had yet to take her eyes off the man behind him and her skin was rapidly losing its pink tinge.

"What do you want?"

"I've been trying to reach you."

"I know, that's why I've been screening my calls you shit-for-brains."

"Why won't you let me explain?"

"Explain what? That you cheated on me and tried to hit me when I confronted you about it? You got one chance Ryan, and you blew it. Have a nice life."

"You little bitch!" Angrily he swung at her. Riley tried to stop him, but before he was halfway out of his seat Shana had grabbed Ryan's arm and forced him into the solid oak bar.

"Call me again, email me again, try and approach me _anywhere_ again and I'll call the cops. Got it asswipe?"

"Yes." He ground out, trying to rip his arm from her grip behind his back.

Shana turned to Riley. "Wanna jet?"

"Umm… sure. Just let me tell my friends."

"Okay. Meet me at the door in a minute."

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Ciara had picked up her bag and was about to leave when her cell phone rang. She glanced at the id and picked it up.

"Hello Ian, out so soon?"

A low laugh drifted over the line. "What can I say? They let me out for good behaviour."

"I somehow have difficulty believing that." She waved good-bye to Felix, the lead guitarist. "What do you want Ian?"

"I've got a proposition for you love."

"I'm listening."

"I've heard from a reliable source that you're in England right now."

"Wow, you really do know everything."

"Aw, c'mon love. Don't be like that. I'm offering you the chance of a lifetime."

"Funny, I've heard that before. Didn't you end up in jail with your last 'chance of a lifetime'?"

"Look, there's a treasure buried in England. I want your help to get it."

"Becket's Gold. I already know."

"Excellent. You'll help me then."

There was the briefest of pauses. "Alright."

"Wonderful. I'll be arriving late tomorrow afternoon." The line went dead.

Ciara sighed, hanging up her own phone. Ian Howe was the last person she needed to deal with right now. But he was after the same thing as her, and it was easier to work with him than against him. She'd just have to find away to get rid of him after.


	3. Appointments

Riley was stretched across Shana's bed, feeling much more relaxed than he had before, but not tired. "So what brings you here?"

"Sorry?"

"Here. In England. I can tell from your accent that you're not British. American?"

"Canadian."

"Riiight. And you're clearly not here on vacation. So what brings you to England?"

She looked at him, trying to decide if the story would bore him to death or not. "Well, I'm an archeologist."

"Really?" Far from being bored, Riley looked up at her in interest. "So, like, you dig up dinosaurs and stuff?" He made a claw shape with his hands.

Shana laughed. "Not quite. We're more interested in historical artifacts, old murders, _that_ kind of stuff. And of course, buried treasure."

"I found buried treasure," Riley said mildly.

"Now Mr. Poole, you've already impressed me enough for me to bring you back to my flat. There's really no need for you to make up stories."

"I'm not!" He sat up. "I really did find treasure. And it was kind of buried. It was under a church. You've heard of the treasure of the Knights Templar? That was me! Well, and a few other people…"

A small frown passed across Shana's face. "The Knights Templar? Wait, do you know Ben Gates!"

Riley's face fell. "Of course that's who you think of," he muttered. "Yeah, I know him. That's who I'm here with."

Shana jumped to her feet. "He's here! That's fantastic!"

Riley continued sulking. "Yeah, yeah, just won-" he was cut off as Shana grabbed him and kissed him hard, very suddenly. "…Derful. Um, okay."

"Come on!" She ran into the hall. "We have to go find him."

"What, now?" Riley's voice cracked slightly, and he cleared his throat. "But I sort of t thought we'd, you know… stay here."

"Oh no! You don't understand. I've been trying to find a way around this forever and now… here! And, and… you!" She pointed at him for emphasis. "It's perfect!"

"But we can't go tonight!" Riley said, sounding slightly desperate.

"Why not?"

"I'm not even sure where he is." This was slightly true. While Riley couldn't say exactly where Ben was at this exact moment, he did know his hotel room, and his cell number, and _Abigail's_ cell number… "Besides, he'd kill me if I showed up tonight. You know, vacation with Abigail."

"Oh." Shana sat down. "Who's Abigail?"

"His girlfriend. You know, I'm supposed to have equal share in the credit."

"What?"

"Never mind." Riley looked at his fingers, trying to look indifferent. "So, what's so special about Ben anyway?"

Shana looked surprised. "Well, nothing really. But I've seen him on TV, and I know he can help."

Riley stopped being indifferent. "Help with what?"

Crawling across the bed, Shana sat very close to him. She grabbed his hands, looking at his eyes. "Okay, my dig site is near the cathedral, you know where that is?"

"Yeah."

Well, we're supposed to be looking for historical artifacts. But the truth is that they're looking for Becket's Gold. Thomas Becket was an archbishop murdered in the thirteenth century. He was supposed to have left behind a great treasure. I'm sure it's real, but I don't want the people I'm working for to find it. It'll be ruined, and all that history will be lost. I need help to get it first."

"Wow." Riley sat back. "Hey, d'you think this would be a world-changing event?"

"Possibly. Why?"

"No reason." He was quiet for a minute. "So wait, _that_ was why you wanted to meet Ben?"

"Yeah."

"And that was the only reason?"

"Yeah, why? You didn't think I was madly in love with him or something, did you?"

Riley looked down quickly. "Oh no, of course not."

Shana laughed. "You know it was _you_ that I invited back here."

"Oh, right. Yeah. Sure. Of course, you know I never-"

"Riley, shut up."

"Okay."

At ten the next morning Riley left, promising Shana that he'd tell Abigail and Ben and bring them by the dig site around 4:30. Halfway to the hotel he realized that he wasn't exactly sure where the dig site was. It didn't really matter, someone in the town would know.

He went up to their room, knocking softly on the door. They may have surprised him last night, but he somehow didn't think would change their habit of getting up at the crack of freaking dawn.

Sure enough Abigail opened the door, looking wide awake. "Riley!" She grinned at him. "How was your night?"

"Great." Without waiting for an invitation he walked in. "Um, Ben?" he called, scratching his head.

"Yeah?" Ben came out from the kitchenette.

"Remember how you said that I could decide the percentage of the next world changing treasure?"

Ben laughed. "Yeah. Don't tell me-you've found buried treasure?"

"Actually… yeah?"

Ciara waited impatiently at the airport for Ian's flight to come in. It was a two hour drive; she'd left at 10:30 and arrived just in time for his 12:30 flight. Well she would have been just in time if the flight hadn't been delayed by an hour and a half. With the time it took to get baggage and everything, it was cutting it close. She had to be back for her appointment.

Sighing, Ciara checked her watch again. His plane had landed fifteen minutes ago. He should be through customs by now.

And there he was, walking through the sliding glass doors for international arrivals. He had a stride that Ciara could have picked out if he'd been wearing white in a snowstorm. Despite the fact that she didn't want to have anything to do with him, she grudgingly had to admit that he was ridiculously good looking. It was a shame that he knew it.

Ian beamed as he caught sight of her. He kissed her, and then stretched out. "Ah, it's good to be free."

Ciara rolled her eyes, trying to decide if she wanted him to kiss her again or not. "Can we just go? I'm running late. I have to be back in Canterbury for four thirty."

Ian raised his eyebrows in mock-surprise. "An appointment? Why darling, you wouldn't be playing with my heart, would you?"

"If only."

He laughed, following her comfortably to the baggage claim. "Now don't tell me you're still angry with me. That whole nonsense was almost two years ago."

"That whole nonsense?" Ciara repeated, slightly incredulous. "Oh you mean when you asked for my help, and when I refused you threatened my life?"

Ian laughed again. "You know I didn't mean it."

"I told you that you were mad to go after that treasure."

"Well I can't've been that mad. After all, the treasure was real."

"And look where it got you. You were sent to prison."

"But I got out, didn't I."

"Yes," she admitted. She stopped and frowned. "How did you manage that anyway? You ought to have been in there for twenty years minimum."

Ian just smiled. "That's my little secret. Now come along love. We don't want to miss your appointment."

Ciara watched him go, wondering yet again how on earth she managed to get involved with him.


	4. Creepy Tunnels

It's Ailaina, I'm making myself known! Know me. Riiiight. Okay, so once again we own nothing EXCEPT for the cathedral boy. I maintain that I own him, because he's my boyfriend. Sort of. What he doesn't know can't hurt me. Oh yeah, and I apologize for the abrupt ending of this chapter. Blame it on Kat.

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Ben glanced at Riley, sitting across from him in the taxi. "So why are we meeting this girl again?"

Riley rolled his eyes. "She wants to the help of the _famous_ Benjamin Gates to protect some treasure she thinks is under the Canterbury Cathedral. Some murdered archbishop from a long time ago, yadda yadda yadda."

"You can't remember what she said?" Abigail asked with a knowing smirk.

"I was slightly distracted." Riley muttered, looking out the car window.

Abigail and Ben smiled at each other, happy that their friend had finally found someone, even if only for a little while. Before their trip he had spent every night either alone with a TV dinner and a computer, or with them. And for the new couple, alone time was in high demand.

"A murdered archbishop…. Would that have been Thomas Becket?"

"Do you know everything!"

Ben shook his head. "We were at the Cathedral yesterday; it was in the booklet they gave us. You were looking at it during the tour."

"Well I forgot. Sue me."

"For your percentage of the treasure? What a great idea! You can have the next one after all. You could split it with this girl, what was her name again?"

"Shana Oliver."

Ben smirked. "Right. Do you know that you smiled when you said her name?"

"I really don't like you."

Ben started to reply, but the car slowed and came to a stop. "Oh look!" Riley exclaimed. "We're here, we should hurry up."

Abigail smiled, taking Ben's hand in her own. "He's right you know; girls hate to be kept waiting."

"I hate both of you. A lot."

They got out of the car, and headed into the cathedral. "Where exactly are we headed?" Abigail asked.

Riley looked around, squinting a bit. "Um, I'm not exactly sure. I though it'd be right here. You know… archeological site… hard to miss."

"Apparently," Ben said dryly.

Not sure where else to go, since the dig site was missing, they headed for the cathedral store, which served as an exit point for the daily tours. The store was filled with replications of historical items, and some modern ones that didn't seem to have anything to do with a cathedral.

Two young men worked at the counter, in their late teens or early twenties. The shorter one had red hair, and the efficient look of someone who was going somewhere in life-most likely what Ben had looked like growing up. He was currently occupied in selling two older women some stamps, chatting away as if they were old mates.

The taller one had dark hair, and a slightly harassed look. He kept shooting the other worker evil looks, as he clearly was bossed around him. He also had no customers at the moment, instead preoccupied with his cash register, so they headed for him.

"Excuse me?" Ben said.

The cathedral boy looked up at them, startled. "Yeah?"

"Could you please tell us where the archeological dig site is?"

He laughed. "You're about ten miles off, mate."

"I'm sorry?"

But before he could explain, the other worker interrupted. "Well, they can't dig right outside the cathedral, can they? Too much development. Think of the interruption to daily life. They're reaching from another site, through a tunnel. I'll write down the address for you." He turned to the other worker. "Michael, I need you to go find the boxed clock for me."

Michael rolled his eyes and left, heading for a shelf and stretching out across the floor as he burrowed through the cupboard beneath.

The other worker then preoccupied with an address, as well as detailed instructions on reaching it, and a completely unnecessary, hand-drawn map, complete to scale.

Sharing a look with Ben, Abigail took the map, and they headed out. As they were leaving, Abigail called out Michael, "Thanks for your help!"

He grinned from the floor. "Cheers!"

It actually only took about ten minutes to catch a taxi and ride out to the dig site. Riley practically leapt out of the car, looking around for Shana. He didn't have far to look: she was waiting for them at the entrance.

"Hi," she said, grinning.

"Um, hi," he answered, not actually sure what to say now that he wasn't drunk or half-asleep. Fortunately he was spared from further embarrassment as Abigail and Ben followed him from the car. "Um Shana, this is Abigail Chase and Ben Gates. Guys, this is Shana Oliver, the archeologist."

Shana grinned. "You have no idea how wonderful it is to meet you," she said. Riley couldn't help scowling slightly. "If you'll just follow me, I have passes for you and we can go right down to the site." Her voice lowered. "And after we can go out, and I'll talk to you about what I have in mind."

Without another word, she led them through the gate, past what seemed like thousands of people, and straight to the entrance of the tunnel. A tall man with brown eyes was waiting for them there.

"Mr. Gates," he said. "I can't tell you what an honour it is to meet you. Ms. Oliver tells me you're a famous anthropologist in America."

Behind his head Shana nodded frantically.

"Um, yes," Ben agreed. "I am. Love my anthropology!"

The man gave him a funny look, and then burst out laughing. "I love the American sense of humour!" He turned to Abigail. "And you must be Ms. Chase. You've done lots of work with historical documents, I hear. I have to say, you'd both be excellent additions to our team."

"Thank you," Abigail said politely, trying to decide if this man could really be this… cheerful.

He turned to Riley. "And you must be Mr… Pole, was it?"

"Um, actually," Riley began.

But the man turned back to Ben, "How nice it is to meet you all! And silly me has been gushing on without even introducing myself."

"It's Riley _Poole_," Riley muttered.

Shana ruled her eyes. "This is my boss, Mr. Grant."

"Oh, no please, I insist. You all simply _must_ call me Alan."

"Right," Riley said. "Al. Okay. Who wants to go down the creepy tunnel first?"

They all turned to look at Ben. "Why do I have to go first?"

"Because," Riley answered. "You're the famous anthropologist dude."

Ben rolled his eyes, and headed down the tunnel.


	5. Revelations

The tunnel wasn't nearly as creepy as Riley had predicted. Of course, that might have been because it hadn't been hidden for a couple of centuries. There were lanterns at regular intervals, keeping it lit, and plenty of people digging away. The tunnel sloped steeply downward until, about three quarters of the way through, it began to slope upward again at a sharp angle.

"We're nearly through," Shana explained when they'd reached the end. "One good day of digging and we'll be there." She had an odd look on her face.

"Why do I get the idea that we'll be the ones doing the digging?" Riley muttered to himself.

As it turned out, that was exactly what Shana had in mind. A little over an hour later they were out of the tunnel and settled in a pub with plenty of drinks. "We have to get there before anyone else does. Which means tonight."

"What exactly are you suggesting?" Ben asked, although it was pretty clear what she meant.

"We have to go back tonight." She ignored the look of protest on Riley's face. "We're so close; you can practically smell the air on the other side. We just have to do a bit of digging, and bam! We're there."

"Yes, but what about the people funding the dig?" Abigail asked. "Won't they have the final say of what happens to the treasure? And it's not as if we could smuggle it all out, and pretend we'd never been there."

Shana shook her head. "Things are different here. It doesn't matter who's funding the expedition. He who gets there first, wins. This is why I hate working here. I have been in that tunnel everyday since we started, and Alan-who is _claustrophobic_ for chrissakes, only has to be there for about an hour tomorrow. And it's all his. It's unfair, and he wouldn't know what to do with it anyway."

Abigail looked at Ben. "Well, what do you think?"

Ben shrugged. "Why not?"

"I can think of a million reasons why not," Riley informed them. He looked up at Shana, who was smiling at him hopefully. He looked suddenly back down at his drink. "But I can think of a better one to just do it," he added in a mutter.

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Ciara walked into the sleazy apartment she shared with Michael.

"I saw your _friends_ today." He called from the kitchen, enunciating the word carefully.

"Oh yeah? Where were they?"

He walked into the living room, holding onto an extremely large sandwich that threatened to fall apart at any second. "The cathedral; they were looking for the dig site though. Mr. I'm-so-much-better-than-you sent me away and drew them a map, so I can't tell you much. They don't seem too bad… They've obviously come in contact with Shana. So that was my day, how'd yours go?" As he turned to her a large dollop of mayonnaise fell out of his sandwich and onto his shirt.

"You know Michael, there is a reason we bought plates. This, for example, is a prime reason."

He shrugged and took the plate and napkin she handed him. "I take it yours was a fun day too, huh?"

"He's back. I don't know what I'm doing anymore… Why I said I'd work with him… Jesus, what was I thinking?"

Michael took another bite. "Well," he said; mouth still full. "It might have something to do with your history."

Ciara glared at him. "I'm telling you that this guy from my past is making my insides go all gooey and you're being extremely nonchalant."

He patted her knee, before standing. "History is history, my love. I know you love me. Besides, think of how many diseases he would have picked up in jail…"

Ciara stared at him for a moment, stunned, before breaking out in laughter. "What are you eating anyway?"

"Ham and Swiss on pumpernickel, want one?"

"I'm good, thanks. I'd rather have you."

"Why, Miss Ciara, are you coming on to me?"

"Yes. Is it working?"

"You could come in here and find out."

With a grin, Ciara did.

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Riley sat on the bed in his hotel room, his laptop propped up while he worked on a crossword puzzle. He knew he should be sleeping, especially since he'd be digging for the rest of the night, but he couldn't get his mind to slow down long enough.

He wasn't even thinking of anything in particular, which was the worst of all. At least then he might have figured out a solution. With a sigh, Riley turned back to his crossword, trying to work out the clue for 46 across: 119886 ÷ 78. It took him all of two seconds to figure out the answer, which was 1537. Vaguely, he wondered if it was normal to know that off the top of your head.

His inane thoughts were interrupted by a knock on his door. Heaving himself to his feet, Riley answered it. Shana was standing there, with drenched hair. Riley looked at her in surprise. "It's raining out," she explained.

He nodded. "Is it time to go already?"

She glanced at her watch. "Um, just about." She stopped for second, and seemed to be trying to decide if she wanted to continue. "Listen, before we go, I just wanted to… well, to thank you."

Mildly startled, Riley laughed. "For what?"

"Well, for believing me, and introducing me to Ben. And… agreeing to come tonight."

Unable to stop himself, Riley grinned with the pleasure. "Oh, sure… I mean, you know, it's no big deal."

Before he could say anything else, Shana leaned over and kissed him, quickly. "I'll meet you at the car," she called as she headed out the door.

Gathering his things together, Riley was horrified to find he was humming.

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Ciara was having a pleasant dream when the shrill ring of the telephone startled her awake. Disentangling herself from Michael, still breathing peacefully beside her, she picked it up on the fourth ring. "Hello?"

Ian's deep voice came down the line, hushed with secrecy. "Meet me at the west gate of the cathedral in fifteen minutes."

Before she'd even had a chance to question it, he'd hung up again. Ciara sighed, stumbling around the room for some clothes. She managed to find a pair of her own jeans, and one of Michael's shirts, which she pulled on over a tank top.

"Michael?" she called, nudging him with her foot while tying her hair back. "Michael, I have to go out."

Michael sighed softly, rolling over in his sleep. Ciara sighed too, and left the flat, thoroughly annoyed to discover that it was pouring rain outside. It was only about a two minute walk to the west gate, but then she was forced to stand outside waiting for Ian for another ten.

By the time he arrived -in a luxury car at that- she was extremely irritated. Ian got out of the backseat, muttering instructions to the driver. He came over to her, raising an eyebrow. "Nice shirt."

Ciara glared at him, in no mood for games. "What exactly are we doing here?"

Ian laughed. "You look like a drowned cat."

"I'm glad you find this so amusing." But she brushed her wet bangs out of her eyes.

Without another word, Ian opened the west gate. "Follow me."

Ciara stared at him. "How did you manage that? The gate's locked after nine thirty."

"I know people," Ian answered, rather cryptically. He led the way quietly through the gates, over to the cathedral and inside. Ciara was shocked by the absolute stillness of the building. She'd been there plenty of times before, but never at night, never when it was empty. That, combined with the echoing sound of the drumming rain, filled her with a sense of awe.

A sense of awe that was quickly shattered as Ian grabbed her arm roughly and pulled her through the main hall to the stairs leading to the crypts and chapels downstairs. Ciara got a hold of herself. "Why are we here?"

"To get the treasure, of course."

"_This_ is your great plan? You don't think that if it were this easy, they wouldn't have done this ages ago, rather than bother with a tunnel outside of town?"

Ian sighed in exasperation. "This was hardly my plan. But we have to move now, or we'll have lost the treasure. I have information that one of the archeologists has decided to go after the treasure here, _tonight._ And you'll never guess who's helping her."

"Michael Keaton," Ciara offered sarcastically.

Ian gave her a dirty look. "Try Ben Gates, Abigail Chase, and that other one."

"Riley?"

"Sure." Ian was only half paying attention, intent on finding something.

"But that means Shana… oh shit," Ciara muttered to herself.

"Exactly," Ian agreed, picking up on the last of her sentence. "If it were any of those other retards, I wouldn't worry. They'd bring the tunnel down on themselves. But if Ben's helping, you can be sure they'll find it."

"Wait a minute." Ciara stopped suddenly. "How are we supposed to get to the treasure before them?"

"What's the one thing between us and the treasure?"

"The cathedral?" she guessed wildly.

"Exactly," Ian affirmed. "So all we have to do is get rid of it."

"What?" Ciara yelled, forgetting that they weren't supposed to be there. "What do you mean, '_get rid of it_'? You can't just get rid of a great, dirty cathedral."

"You can with the right material… or should I say, explosives?"

Ciara's eyes widened, and she grabbed Ian's arm. "No! You can't just blow up the cathedral! It's centuries old! For the love of god, it's older than the Knights of the Round Table!"

Ian shook her off. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were more interested in an old building than you were in the treasure."

"Of course not, but there must be a better way to do this."

"There isn't. Either we get it now, or we don't get it at all. They're already at the tunnel, there's no other way to the treasure." He stopped talking suddenly. "Did you hear that?"

"Hear what?"

But he didn't have to answer. There was the loud creak of the doors opening, as one of the guards came to investigate the noise. Without a second thought, Ian shoved Ciara up against the wall, pinning her arms above her head, and ravishing her mouth with his own. Without meaning to, Ciara closed her eyes and kissed him back.

The bright light of a flashlight beam shone over them, turning the inside of her eyelids red. "Oi, you there! What d'you think you're doin?"

Ian turned, startled, and Ciara did her best to look guilty, not difficult when they'd just been discussing blowing up the cathedral. "Well you see, sir, this place is just so old… and we thought what would be better than to experience true, ancient love."

The guard looked at them skeptically, but apparently they were convincing enough, because his gaze softened somewhat. "Alright. Get out of here, the pair of ye."

Ian grabbed Ciara's hand and they left without argument. "That was unnaturally kind of you," she muttered when they were out of earshot. "Normally you'd just have shot him."

Ian shrugged. "It's too late now. By the time we got everything set up, they'd have broken through."

"Oh. In that case, I take back what I said."

Ian laughed, and stopped, pulling her toward him. She suddenly realized that he hadn't yet let go of her hand. "You know, the evening doesn't have to be a complete loss."

Ciara stared at him, almost saying yes as he leaned forward to kiss her again. Then she started suddenly, pulling from his grasp. "I have to go," she said, and took off down the street, through the rain.

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Riley's hand had blistered, and he felt as if he'd been digging for hours when his shovel finally hit stone. The loud clang rang out through the tunnel, and for an instant they all just stared at each other. Then Shana rushed forward, scrabbling at the last of the dirt with her bare hands. When she had finished, a large stone door stood before them, almost menacing in appearance.

Ben turned to Shana. "Ladies first."

She grinned, and pushed with all her weight on the door, but it wouldn't budge. Without her asking, Riley moved to help. Together they managed to shove the door open. Stale air burst out, leaving them all coughing for an instant.

When the air had cleared enough, they both looked in, but it was too dark to see past their noses. "Give me that lantern!" Shana yelled, too excited to be patient any longer. Abigail handed her the lantern, and Shana ran in, the others right behind.

When they had enough light to see, they looked around in complete shock. It was Riley who finally spoke.

"It's empty."


	6. Zee Treashure

I'm sorry to have taken so long to write the next chapter. We've both had terrible writer's block. And I'm very sorry if this chapter is complete rubbish. I'm trying to get out of the nice little hole I've dug myself into, so bear with me.

By the way, I know bits of the cave scene may be a bit confusing, but keep in mind that it's really happening all at once.

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Ciara let herself quietly into the flat, muttering to herself. "Bloody Ian and his bloody bad ideas-"

"Hard night?"

She jumped as Michael turned on the light. "Jesus, you scared me to death."

"Sorry. So where have you been?"

"Out with Ian. He wanted to blow up the cathedral!"

"Well that would suck. I'd be out of a job."

Ciara glared at him. "That would be the least of my worries. Think of the history that would all be blown away in a single moment."

Michael shrugged. "Well, you know Ian. Treasure is treasure."

Ciara threw her arms up in the air. "Men. You don't understand anything."

Michael laughed. "I'm sorry darling. So where is your lover-boy now? He didn't have Plan B, and C, and D?"

"No, he just wanted to…" But she trailed off, her eyes unfocusing slightly.

"Oh, let me guess, he was going to take you back to his place and-Ciara, are you alright?"

Her eyes snapped back into focus. "That bloody bastard!" she screamed, grabbing a jacket on her way out the door.

"Wait, where are you going?" Michael called plaintively after her. He wasn't expecting an answer, and he didn't receive one.

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Riley continued to look around in horrified shock. He hadn't exactly expected his hours of digging to be rewarded with… nothing. To his surprise, Shana began to laugh. He regarded her closely. "What could possibly be funny?"

She turned to look at him, grinning widely. "It's not empty."

He looked at her incredulously. "Do you _see_ vast amounts of treasure lying around?"

But Shana didn't appear to have heard him. She looked at the ceiling, and then at the floor, took a few steps, then repeated the routine. She was so focused that Riley didn't bother interrupting; assuming she'd lost her mind from disappointment.

A minute later, she stopped, nose to nose with the wall. "There," she announced.

Riley exchanged a look with Ben and Abigail. "…What..?"

She turned to them, beaming. "Look at the brick. Do you see the symbol in the bottom right corner?"

Abigail walked over. "You mean the 'C' with a cross beside it?"

Shana nodded, picking up the shovel. "That's the one. It's Becket's Symbol." And with no further ado, she smashed the brick to pieces, reaching in through the rubble.

"What is she doing?" Ben whispered to Riley. He shrugged in return.

An instant later and Shana's hand redrew, clutching what appeared to be a scroll. She smirked at them triumphantly. "Of course they wouldn't hide the treasure _here_. That would be too obvious. This-" She held up the scroll, "Will tell us where to go."

Riley grinned back at her, but before he could say a word, a slow clapping at the entrance to the cave made them all spin around.

"My, my. _Very_ well done indeed. I have to say, I did have my doubts."

Ben took an uncertain step forward. "Ian?"

Ian spared him glance. "Hello Ben, did you miss me?"

"What do you want, Ian?" Abigail burst out.

"Well I should think that would be obvious." He turned, his eyes fixed on Shana. "Give me the scroll."

"No," she answered steadily, clutching it in her hands.

"Very well, I won't ask nicely again." He pulled out a gun, pointing at her. "The scroll. _Now_."

"Shana, I really think you just give it to him," Riley said nervously.

Ian nodded. "You should listen to your friend. I'm told he's quite intelligent."

Riley resisted the urge to stick his tongue out at him.

Shana didn't take her eyes off of Ian. "I'd rather die."

"That can easily be arranged," Ian answered, preparing to pull the trigger.

"Stop! Ian, you god-damned _bastard_."

There was a moment of confusion, as Ciara came running from the tunnel. Ian stared at her, as surprised as anybody. "What are you _doing_ here?"

Both of her eyebrows disappeared behind her bangs. "What am _I_ doing here? How about you, you shiteless arsehole? You were trying to get rid of me!"

Ian blinked, trying to fathom how this was actually happening. "Do you really think this is the place for this conversation?" he hissed. Ciara continued to glare at him. "I'm sorry, alright?" he continued in an undertone. "But what does it matter? We're here together, eh? So we'll take the scroll and get out of here." He turned back to Shana, pointing the gun once more.

"Hey, you're the singer from the nightclub," Riley said suddenly, having come to the conclusion that he was living in a surrealistic nightmare.

"Well spotted," she muttered dryly, before turning back to Ian. "Are you mad! A gunshot will bring down the entire tunnel, and kill everyone _including _you. Give me that."

Chaos ensued as Ciara tried frantically to wrestle the gun from Ian. Though they were both quite distracted, they still stood between Shana and the others, preventing them from getting to her. Ben reached down and picked up the shovel, intending to smack Ian with it. At the same time, Shana tried to catch Riley's eye, wondering if she could roll the scroll to him without either Ciara or Ian noticing. Ben was moving forward when Ciara noticed, spinning Ian around and out of the way. Riley, intent on helping Shana, tripped past Ben, and hit Ian.

The blasting sound of a gunshot ricocheted throughout the cave.

They all froze for a minute, each one of them holding their breath.

Ian looked down at Ciara, whose arm was bleeding. "I shot you?" he asked, somewhat confused.

She shook her head. "It's just a graze," she whispered.

An instant later, the cave began to collapse.

"Run!" Ciara yelled. "Run!"

They needed no further incentive. As one they all ran out of the cave and down through the tunnel. If it had seemed long before, that was nothing compared the way it felt now, as pieces of rock and stone rained from the ceiling.

They could see the light from outside and were mere meters from the exit when the large rock fell on Ian's head. Without even realizing, Riley, Shana, Abigail and Ben continued running out into freedom, and far away from danger.

Ciara ran another foot, stopped and looked back. "Oh, for chrissakes," she muttered before turning back and yanking Ian, none-too-gently, out the remainder of the cave. She pulled him a safe distance away, and then left him lying on his back in the rain, sinking down to sit in the dirt. While the rain streaked tracks through the dust on her face, she watched the entrance to the cave disappear.

Ciara turned a scrutinizing eye on Ian, still unconscious in the rain. "I really hate you sometimes," she muttered.


	7. Dash for the Finish

"Well now, aren't you lucky to have a bloke like me around to get you out of jams?"

Ciara peered up to find Michael saundering toward her, popping a brownie in his mouth. "Do you ever stop eating?"

He shrugged. "Criticize me if you like, but I just saved your pretty little bum."

"What are you talking about? Shana and friends are long gone with the map to the treasure, and Ian is currently brain dead." She reached out to nudge him in the head with her foot.

"So we follow them. It's not as if we really need to bring him along."

"Yes, but I didn't even see which way they went. And tracking people through a city is significantly more difficult that if you were prancing through the forest."

Michael nodded. "Granted, that is true. Provided, of course, that you don't have one of these."

He held up a small electronic device, and Ciara gaped at him. "Michael, is that a…?"

"You know, they really shouldn't just leave their bags lying around. They'll get _bugs _in them."

"That is the worst pun I've ever heard." She got to her feet and promptly kissed him. "Have I ever told you how much I love you?"

"Not recently. Mind you, I expect to hear it every day from now on."

Ciara rolled her eyes. "Come on, we have to go and catch a taxi. That's difficult enough in this godforsaken place."

Michael laughed. "Haven't you realized yet? I'm always three steps ahead. I already have a car waiting."

"And what's the third step?"

"They just made a call to Gatwick Airport, so we know where there heading. So let's go."

"Wait." Ciara turned back, looking at where Ian was still lying on the ground. "What about him?"

"Leave him there. He'll wake up eventually, and we don't have long to catch up to them."

Ciara cast one last glance at Ian, decided he deserved it for the extra difficulties he'd caused her, and chased after Michael.

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"Okay. So where are we going?" Riley asked, trying his best to be enthusiastic, and not remember the last time they'd gotten into this sort of situation.

"Hm?" Ben glanced at him. "Oh, I'm not really sure. I wasn't listening." He leaned forward to where Shana was driving in the front. "We'd better hurry. The next flight leaves in two hours."

Shana grinned. "Don't worry. I've made it in one before."

Deciding to ignore that, Riley turned back to Ben. "Wait, what do you mean you _don't know_? How can you not know where we're going?"

"I just booked tickets on the next flight out. I wasn't really concerned with where it is. By the way, it's at Gate 162."

"Great." Riley leaned back against the seat. "I just hope someone can speak Timbuktu-ian."

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The flight, as it turned out, was not to Timbuktu, but to Bucharest, Romania. At least that's what Ciara was desperately hoping, having just booked two tickets. Otherwise they were going to lose serious time.

"How do you know they'll go for the next flight?" Michael asked, passing yet another car. "I mean, I know they're trying to get away, and that they need the chance to stop and think, but don't you think that's a bit, well… stupid? They could end up anywhere."

"It's what I would do," Ciara answered, looking through the rain as if trying to will the airport closer. "And it's what Shana would do."

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"Okay, come on quickly, get out of the car!" Shana grabbed her back from the floor.

"Wait… you can't park here," Riley said.

"Oh, it doesn't matter. I don't need the car anymore anyway. They can go ahead and tow it. Come on!"

They ran inside, thanking the gods for e-tickets, and dashed for their gate. They got there just as they were closing the door.

"Wait!" Abigail screamed. "Please wait!"

The disgruntled attendant glared at them, saw their flustered faces as they raced for the door, and relented. "Oh, alright," he agreed, checking their tickets and letting them through. He locked the door behind them and prepared to shut down his station until the next flight.

"Hey, wait!"

He looked up, startled to see another pair of people running toward him, this time a young girl with a boy. He shrugged his shoulders. "Sorry. Flight's closed."

"Fuck," Ciara announced, turning to watch the plane taxi away.

Micahel turned back to the flight attendant. "You didn't happen to see our friends, did you? There was a guy and a girl about our age, with brown hair, and then another man and a woman? The man and dark hair, the woman blonde?"

"Oh, sure. Got here just in time. Funny, they didn't tell me to wait."

"Oh… yeah. Well, we told them to go ahead."

He and Ciara turned to walk away when her cell phone rang. She picked it up. "What?" she snapped.

"Thought you'd leave me behind sweetheart?"

"It's no worse than what you did to me," she retorted, in no mood for Ian's humour.

"That is true. God, I have a splitting headache. Did you catch them?"

"No, she answered, and then her voice softened significantly, turning slightly sultry. "Actually Ian, I'm glad you called. I could use your help…"


End file.
